


i’ve lost all ambition (for worldly acclaim)

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Other, prompts, way more Tags to be added i just can’t be stuffed at the moment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 13:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: regulus black centred one-shots.(prompt list credit to prompts-n-stuff-like-that on tumblr.)





	i’ve lost all ambition (for worldly acclaim)

**Nightmare**. 

The sky was dark outside, an array of grey clouds swarming over the moon, leaving London in darkness. 

Regulus breathed in a shaky breath, eyeing his room. His right hand was wrapped around his left wrist, covering up the mark that had..._branded _him for the rest of his life. The teenager leaned against his wall, his grey eyes feeling drowsy and heavy. Regulus shook his body out, trying to clear out the sleepy thoughts that floated inside his head, trying to convince and lull him into a deep slumber. The 6th year Slytherin let his eyes rest upon the newspapers around his room, and he scratched subconsciously at his mark. He returned his gaze back down to his arm, his face turning into a scowl. The Dark Mark wasn't a symbol of brotherhood, of loyalty, it was a symbol of agony and selling off ones' soul. Regulus let out a quivering sigh, and he leaned into his knees as he wrapped his arms around himself, forcing himself to not cry or scream or thrash or _fight back for Merlins sake_-no, he closed his eyes, forced his mind to go blank and_ stay that way. _

What had he gotten himself into? 

He was so, so stupid. Why hadn't he listened to his brother? Why didn't he escape from this life when he could have? The boy didn't even know which thought was his own now, thanks to his family forcing words on his tongue and thoughts into his brain. Why was Regulus so foolish? He sat up abruptly, curling his fingers around the bottom of his bed and leaning down towards the ground, his eyes screwing shut as a headache started to form in the back of his mind, screaming at him to go to sleep-because he really did need it. Regulus gulped and reopened his eyes, checking the time and seeing it was fairly late, or should he say early? The teenager decided to stand up, placing his hands behind his head and wincing. He scratched the back of his head with his nails, forcing the back of his head to lean against his palms. Regulus inhaled and exhaled, his eyes opening up again. He let out a low groan, feeling an angry emotion flow through him. He picked up his wand, his fist tightening around it. 

The _one_ thing that Regulus liked about this stupid, beyond-ancient, abusive, foul, _loathful _house was the fact that it had a charm around it that let underage wizards or witches preform spells outside of Hogwarts. So, naturally, Regulus saw this as a benefit, although he refused to let his mind wonder why _exactly_ this charm was in place. 

With a quick flick of his wand, he allowed his rage to whip out and slice through the posters, articles and such, slicing them and letting them softly fall to the ground. A small burst of pleasure flowed through him as this happened, but it was replaced with self-hatred almost immediately after. How could he even allow himself to feel any sort of happiness after what he had seen? After all he had done to stay alive? The teenager gritted his teeth, dropping his wand and swiftly jumping into his bed, his heart thumping. 

It wasn't long before the nightmares came. 

The first one was of Sirius; when he had ran away, his eyes scorching and fuming. He had left as though fire had burned under his feet, and Regulus hadn't said anything, just allowing them to share one, small and pitying look before his brother turned on his heels, leaving the house quiet and peculiar. Regulus remembered the way his parents had acted as though Sirius had never existed, instead focusing on Regulus and laying down their expectations on a silver platter. The youngest Black had nodded silently, and Walburga had let out a smirk of sorts, and Orion had blinked, never having revealed emotions and obviously not starting now. 

The second one was of Voldemort, his grin wide as he placed his wand on Regulus's arm, his ears seemingly mute to the boys screams of pain, the tattoo slowly smearing over his wrist. Regulus had tilted his head, gritting his teeth and glancing over at his mother, who was standing among other fellow Death Eaters and Loyal followers of the Dark Lord. The mother met her sons eyes, and Regulus wasn't sure if he had been imagining the flash of regret in her eyes-but if it had happened, it was only for a second. Next to Walburga stood Bellatrix, who had a smirk plastered on her face, pride leering into it. It made the boy want to be sick, but he really didn't want to deal with the consequences of vomiting on Voldemort. Regulus forced his eyes over to his father, who was emotionless as ever. But his grey eyes finally met Regulus's, and his thin mouth formed a frown. and Regulus blinked away the thought that screamed, _Help me! Stop this! Be an actual father for once in your Merlin cursed life!_ But then his arm was overcome with another wave of pain, and Regulus let out another cry. 

The third, and last, was of a kid, screaming out and thrashing against long, narrow fingers that dragged them away from a sunken body. The kid let out shrill cries, their eyes puffy and voice broken. Regulus stood faraway, his eyes on the ground and jaw clenched. He looked away from the scene, his heart thumping in his ears. He remembers the way the wand was pressed against the kids neck, their screams cut off as a burst of green light was flashed. And then their body when limp, and Regulus felt a lump form in his throat. He shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself. He shakily pressed against a tree, and muted the chuckles of his fellow Death Eaters as he turned around and vomited in a bush, his face pale and sickly. 

Regulus groaned in his sleep, rolling around in his bed as his eyebrows furrowed. 

Kreacher cracked into the room, about to wake his master, but halted his words as he spotted the state of the newspapers. The house elf clicked his fingers, and everything in his room that was broken was fixed. Kreacher knew Mistress wouldn't approve of the obviously slashed articles. 

"Master Regulus! It is time to wake up!" 

And Regulus was jolted awake, his Dark Mark feeling as though it was burning.


End file.
